


Roosters

by Sexxica



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom John, Clothed Sex, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, M/M, Name-Calling, Prostitution, Pushy Bottoms, Rentboys, Rimming, Ripped Clothing, Spanking, Spitroasting, Threesome, Threesome - M/M/M, Unsafe Sex, Young John Watson, Younger John, holes in clothing, rentboy john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 07:26:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3683304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexxica/pseuds/Sexxica
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Greg drags Sherlock to 'Roosters', which Sherlock thinks is just a bar, to let off some steam.  And boy, do things get steamy when it turns out young John Watson is on the menu.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roosters

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a commission. Want to pay me to write things for _you?_ [Check out my commission info!](http://sexxicawrites.tumblr.com/commissions)

“I don’t want to go to some insipid _bar_ , Lestrade.  Why are you dragging me to this ‘Roosters’ place?”  Sherlock complained, his hands stuffed deep in his coat pockets as he walked to the bar with Greg at his side.

“Because, mate, you managed to piss off my entire team in less than ten minutes today.  Even for you that’s pretty bad.  You need to blow off some steam, and I really think you’ll like this place.”  It took everything Greg had not to say “you’ll like _him_.”  Him being the blonde server with deep blue eyes, and a military air who couldn’t be more than 25.

They walked through the door and took a seat in a curved, roomy booth with a table a bit lower than standard.  The place was nearly empty, but it was also the middle of a Tuesday afternoon.  It was only a moment before a smiling young man came over and dropped off a set of paper menus for them, but Greg quickly snatched Sherlock’s away.  “I’ll order for us,” he said, scribbling on the menu with a tiny pencil that was left with the menus.

“What kind of place is this?” Sherlock asked, looking around and decidedly _not_ staring at the variety of scantily clad servers, all men, who were milling around.  

“A good one,” Greg answered with a wink as the server came to collect the filled-out menu.

A few more minutes and out sauntered the man himself, clad in a similar outfit to the other servers and holding a plastic bin full of assorted items against his hip.  His tight, thin, red little booty shorts hugged his pert arse and left nothing to the imagination, his white cropped sleeveless shirt with the Roosters logo showed off his toned abs and lightly tanned skin, silver dog tags glinted around his neck, and a pair of black combat boots with the laces undone finished off his outfit.  “I’m John.  Welcome to Roosters,” he smiled. 

Greg tried not to grin _too_ hard as he watched Sherlock’s eyes go wide and his jaw go slack.  He knew that John would be just Sherlock’s type, but it was still satisfying to see just how right he was.    

Sherlock, for his part, was having a bit of trouble breathing as it finally dawned on him exactly what kind of place this, in fact, was.  The kind where the server was carrying a bin full of lube and sex toys and then hopped up on the table to sit spread-legged in front of them.   

“Nice to see you again, Greg” John said flirtatiously.  “And you brought a handsome friend to play with.  Aren’t I the lucky one,” he went on, pushing the toe of one boot lightly against Sherlock’s chest.  “Now, you’ve ordered the full meal deal, which means there’s only a few rules.  No blood, no permanent marks, anyone says ‘red light’ or knocks twice on the table and everything stops.  Other than that, I’m all yours, or the other way ‘round if you want,” he winked at Sherlock. 

Sherlock swallowed hard, struggling to take in all the new information and such a sudden shift in his expectations for the evening.  He presumed Lestrade was going to get him blind drunk and let a two day hangover thoroughly chastise him.   _This_ was not something he had ever expected. 

“I think you broke him already,” Greg chuckled, sliding a bit awkwardly over to sit behind Sherlock, his legs splayed on either side of him.  Sherlock didn’t resist when Greg grabbed his hands and placed them on John’s calves, moving them up his thighs, over his hips, all the way to his taut stomach before Sherlock seemed to come back to himself, starting to move on his own.  Greg dropped his hands back to John’s well-muscled thighs, skirting his fingers around the edge of his shorts. 

Sherlock skimmed his fingers over John’s warm skin, up underneath the slip of fabric that was his shirt to brush over his nipples.  John’s breath caught and Sherlock dared to look up and meet his eyes.  The cocky smile on John’s face seemed ever-present, and it sparked something off in Sherlock, making him wonder what it would take to wipe it off.  He pinched one of John’s nipples hard, rubbing his thumb against the other.  John bit his lip and let out a small moan. 

“That’s more like it, Sir,” John said, arching up into both Sherlock and Greg’s hands.  “I like it a little rough, and Greg knows I can take it.  Isn’t that right, Greg?” 

Greg hummed an affirmative and slid a hand over the bulge in the front of John’s shorts, rubbing his half-hard cock through the material that was quickly going nearly transparent.  “You take it very well.  That’s why you’re so popular, Johnny-boy.  Well, that and your fantastic arse.” 

“Flatterer,” John moaned, rocking his hips into Greg’s hand.  “You gonna take my shorts off or what?” 

“I have a better idea,” Greg grinned wickedly and whispered something in Sherlock’s ear. 

Sherlock shifted where he sat, feeling the press of Greg’s erection at his back as his own strained against his trousers.  Greg had a dirty mind, apparently, but Sherlock absolutely wasn’t going to argue with him about _this_.   

Greg slid his hands down to rest on John’s knees, while Sherlock let his fall to the tight, red shorts.  Sherlock leaned down and let John feel his warm breath on his cock through the material before he mouthed at it, making John groan and rest a hand on the back of Sherlock’s head.  Sherlock couldn’t help but dampen the fabric with his tongue, licking and mouthing at John’s trapped cock for a moment before he did as Greg had suggested and carefully took the material between his teeth.  A firm bite and pull and a hole opened up in John’s shorts, letting Sherlock slip his cock out through it. 

Johns cock was thick and hard, definitely above average in girth if not in length.  Sherlock stuck his tongue out and laved over it, wrapped his lips around it and listened to the hitching moan that John gave as his fingers tightened in Sherlock’s hair.   

“Hey now, no fair.  I can’t even see properly from back here.  Budge up, I want a piece of that arse and we aren’t paying so that you can suck his cock,” Greg complained, forcing his way out from behind Sherlock.  “On your hands and knees for us,” he said, standing in the space between the seats and table.  Sherlock followed suit as John repositioned himself. 

Greg ran his hands over the curve of John’s arse, squeezing and kneading the firm, yet yielding flesh.  “Such an arse on you,” Greg nearly growled, bending down and pressing his face between his cheeks, shoving his tongue against the fabric covering his hole.  “Well, what are you waiting for?” Greg pulled back, giving a hard swat to John’s arse cheek, making him suck in a quick breath.  “Put your mouth to use.  Or do I need to pull you over my knee like last time?” 

John gave Sherlock a wink that Greg couldn’t see and went down on his elbows, splaying his knees a bit wider and arching his spine, giving Greg an even better view of his arse.  “I don’t know, Greg, do you?” John teased. 

“Mouthy slut,” Greg answered, giving a series of quick smacks to John’s bottom, making him gasp and yelp. 

Sherlock watched as John took each slap with that grin still on his face, only briefly interrupted as his lips opened around the sounds he was making.  Sherlock’s cock twitched in his trousers. 

“Ohh, Greg, I thought you _loved_ my mouth,” John groaned as Greg ran his hands over his arse which was likely now as red as his shorts. 

“Yeah, I like it when it’s full,” Greg answered. 

“Well, someone better fill it up, then,” John said, looking up from under his long lashes at Sherlock, who couldn’t act quick enough to free his cock and push it down John’s willing throat.  John took it with a deep, wanton moan, his eyes closing and eyebrows bunching together in concentration.  Sherlock gave a satisfied grunt when he bottomed out against the back of John’s throat, threading a hand through John’s short hair and holding him down until his eyes started to water. 

John pulled off gasping when Sherlock released his hold on his hair, his lips reddened and shining with spit, and blinking the tears from his eyes, but he was still smiling.  “Whaddya think, Sir?  Is my mouth better when it’s full?” 

“Yes,” Sherlock answered, his voice rough. 

“Oh, you do talk.  I was starting to wonder, Sir,” John smirked. 

“Usually getting him to shut up is the trick,” Greg chimed in, still kneading John’s arse, pressing a thumb against his arsehole through his shorts.   

“Don’t worry, Sir,” John said, reaching out to stroke Sherlock’s cock, still wet with saliva.  “I’m happy to have you whether you talk my ear off or never say a word.”  John grinned as he stuck his tongue out and licked a long stripe up the underside of Sherlock’s cock, staring up at him the whole time.     

Sherlock couldn’t control the way his heart thudded against his chest at the sight.  God, John was gorgeous and completely obscene.  Sherlock didn’t doubt that as long as the price was right, he would do absolutely anything with that ever-present grin still stuck on his face.  It wasn’t even put on.  John seemed to be genuinely thrilled to be used and maybe just a little abused.  He loved every second of it. 

As John set to work bobbing his head on Sherlock’s cock, Greg pinched some of the fabric of John’s shorts, pulling them away from his body before poking a finger through them and ripping a fresh hole, revealing John’s perfect, pink arsehole.  Greg spread John’s arsecheeks with his thumbs before diving in for a taste, licking and giving filthy open-mouthed kisses through the hole in John’s shorts.  John moaned around Sherlock’s cock. 

Greg loved the feel of John’s arsehole fluttering around his tongue, the way he tried to grind himself back into Greg’s mouth.  But, he wanted more.  Greg fished around in the bin on the table for a tube of lube and squeezed a liberal amount down John’s crack, making John shiver a little.  Greg slicked two fingers through the stuff and quickly pressed them into the heat of John’s hole, immediately twisting and scissoring them, wanting him open enough to fuck. 

John worked well, even with his concentration split between the fingers up his arse and Sherlock’s cock in his mouth.  Sherlock’s knees were going weak with it - the way John’s tongue swirled and prodded, the suction as he bobbed his head, but most of all the way he took Sherlock’s cock deep down this throat like he was born to do it. 

John pulled off for a moment, turning his head to Greg.  “Just fuck me already,” he said, “I want that fat cock up my arse.” 

Greg growled as he wiped his fingers off on a cloth and nearly tore the zip on his trousers getting himself out.   

John moved to take Sherlock’s cock back into his mouth, but Sherlock stopped him.  “I want to watch,” he rasped, not sure he could last much longer under John’s fervid mouth. 

John grinned at him before he flipped over on his back, scooting up to the edge of the table with his legs spread.  “We’ll give him a show, yeah?” John said to Greg as he bit his lip and angled his hips up provocatively. 

Greg didn’t need to be asked twice, and quickly lubed his cock up and sunk it into John.  They both groaned, John arching up a little off the table as he pressed his head back against it.   

“Fuck you’re tight,” Greg said through clenched teeth, “I’ll never understand how a rentboy like you stays so fucking tight.”  Greg pulled his hips back, then snapped them forward viciously while Sherlock watched with a hungry look on his face. 

“It’s … uhh … trade secret,” John tried to chuckle, even as the air was driven out of him in huffs with the force that Greg fucked into him.  Greg panted with his efforts, holding one of John’s thighs as he fucked him hard. 

Sherlock had to squeeze his cock while he watched to tamp down his burning arousal.  It was absolutely filthy the way John’s cock stuck out of the one hole in his shorts to bounce against his stomach, while Greg fucked him through the other.  The pink flush on John’s cheeks, the way his abs rippled, and how his shirt had ridden up around his neck as he squirmed on top of the table were also more than marginally attractive.  Sherlock reached out to touch - ran one hand over John’s chest to pinch and play with his nipples while the other wandered lower, cupping and rolling his balls that were still trapped inside John’s shorts. 

“O-oh!” John gasped, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head.   

“Don’t you dare come,” Sherlock snarled, watching precome leak copiously from the tip of John’s cock.  “You don’t come until we say so.” 

John swallowed thickly and took in a shaking breath.  “Not … not gonna have much choice if you keep up like that.” 

“Fuck it, I want your mouth, Johnny-boy” Greg panted, “this slut’s sweet arse is all yours,” Greg nodded to Sherlock and pulled out slowly, relishing the friction. 

John picked a wet wipe out of the bin and knelt to clean the lube off Greg’s cock before he got back down on his hands and knees.  He wriggled his arse enticingly at Sherlock.  “Come on, Sir, I know you want it.  Wanna fuck me senseless,” John grinned. 

Sherlock found the lube on the table and fisted his cock with a squirt of it, then held himself steady as he rested one hand on John’s arse, keeping him spread.  His hole was pink and glistening and open, but oh so tight as Sherlock pressed inside in one smooth push.  Sherlock moaned at the feel of it, his eyelids drooping shut despite his desire to watch himself disappear into John.    

“That’s it, Sir,” John groaned.  “Use me.” 

And Sherlock did.  He thrust into John hard and fast as Greg held his cock out for John’s mouth.  Sherlock gripped onto John’s ruined shorts, using the leverage to haul him back to meet his thrusts while Greg kept John’s head steady with a hand in his hair. 

Greg was shocked by just how well John was managing to suck him off as Sherlock fucked him forcefully, making his body rock back and forth.  But John was good at his job, very good.  It was only a few minutes before Greg felt his orgasm coming and he pulled out of John’s mouth, jerking himself off with a series of rising moans before he grunted and came all over John’s face.  He watched John stick his tongue out to taste it off his lips, one eye glued shut, and a glob of it dripping off his chin onto the table.  It was almost enough to make Greg hard again right then.  He took pity on John and wiped his eye off so he could open it again, but left the rest of his mess. 

Sherlock was breathing hard, driving himself over and over again into the tight, slick, wonderful heat of John’s arse.  He wasn’t going to last much longer, especially not after watching Greg come on John’s face and then flop back into the booth, spent cock still sticking out of his open trousers, to watch.  “Ooh fuck,” Sherlock breathed shakily. 

“Go ahead, Sir.  I wanna feel you come and I-I can’t hold out much longer,” John stuttered, and from the way his arse was twitching and clenching around him, Sherlock didn’t doubt that it was true. 

A few more quick thrusts and Sherlock came, spilling into John’s arse and listening to the way he moaned for more despite the way his orgasm made his senses hazy.  Sherlock’s heart hammered in his ears, his cock throbbing in time with it, as spurt after spurt of come shot deep into John until Sherlock was spent too, slipping his softening cock free and watching for a moment as his come dripped sluggishly out of John’s arsehole. 

“On your back,” Sherlock said, still struggling to get his breath back, and John complied, laying on his back with his knees up, combat boots flat on the tabletop and his flushed red cock thick on his belly.  Sherlock shoved two fingers into his freshly fucked arsehole, making his come gush out around them.  He wrapped his other hand around John’s leaking prick, stroking it as his fingers searched inside of him. 

“Fuck! Oh fuck! Right there,” John practically screamed as Sherlock’s fingers brushed over his prostate.  “Jesus fuck please! Please say I can come, Sir! You have to let me!” John begged, whimpering as he tried to hold off the wave of pleasure that was threatening to spill over.  He finally wasn’t smiling - only an open mouthed expression of frustrated desire. 

Sherlock looked over to Greg, who just nodded a bit sleepily.  “Come for me,” Sherlock said quietly, almost gently, which was in sharp contrast to the way he pressed his fingers directly against John’s prostate as he jerked his cock in quick strokes. 

A broken yell tore out of John’s throat as he came in thick, powerful spurts that splashed onto his chest and the table near his head, some even adding to Greg’s come which still clung stickily to his face.  Sherlock milked him until he was whimpering and quivering where lay, covered in come and chest heaving. 

Sherlock found another of the wet wipes in the plastic bin and cleaned off his hands and cock before he tucked himself away and sat down next to Greg. 

“Feel like yelling at anyone?” Greg asked, clapping a hand down on Sherlock’s knee and giving it a squeeze. 

“No,” Sherlock replied, surprised to find that it was actually true.  Mostly he felt like finding out how much this cost, then John’s schedule, then sleeping for a while.  He doubted that even Anderson would be able to piss him off for at least an hour or two.   

“Good.  Mission accomplished, then.  John, a pleasure, as always,” Greg said, sorting himself out before he stood. 

“Mmm.  Always happy to see you, Greg,” John murmured.  He looked glassy-eyed and completely fucked out. 

“Yes, umm, thank you,” Sherlock said tentatively, not exactly sure what you said to a man you had just paid to fuck. 

John managed to lean up on his elbows to look at Sherlock.  “I don’t even know your name.” 

“Sherlock.  Sherlock Holmes.” 

John bit his lip and looked him up and down, a bit of a blush rising in his cheeks.  “You can come back to see my _anytime_ Sherlock Holmes.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Don't forget to follow me on Tumblr!](http://sexxicawrites.tumblr.com/)


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